


Resource Guarding

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mute Ryan Haywood, also barely risingwood, but barely, they cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: Jon just wishes some of the people he works with would learn to knock.





	Resource Guarding

Jon considers himself to be a very nice guy. Very welcoming. He works hard to make sure his friends and co-workers know he's always there for them. Sure, he snaps occasionally when their antics are a bit much, but ultimately he's a softy. He's fine with being a softy; happy to be obvious in his affection.

But god damn would it kill a person to knock?

“JON! HOLY FUCK!”

Blaine's booming voice crashes through Jon's small office as the door is thrown open, banging the wall. Jon screeches and grabs the broken stapler sitting on his desk, poised to launch it directly at the sudden intruder. He freezes when he realizes who it is. Blaine ignores the half-assed threat entirely, slamming the door closed behind him and practically falling onto the cheap couch that sits in front of Jon's desk.

“You are not gonna believe this one, Jon.” He says, shaking his head as he talks.

He doesn't get an answer because Jon is still frozen with his hand in the air, clutching his weapon. His eyebrows are furrowed together in intense confusion as he processes what the fuck is going on. 

“So, there I was with Chris. We were in the--”

“You're in my office.” 

Blaine just blinks at him, like Jon is the weird one here. Jon is not fuckin’ having it. “You just,” he pauses to wave his free hand at the door, “burst in. The door was closed. And here you are.”

After a moment, Blaine goes to speak. He's swiftly cut off.

“Get out. And learn to knock, god damn it.”

\----

Diets are awful. Salads suck. But life is life, and so Jon sits at his desk eating his salad for lunch while he fools around in Photoshop. Dick drawings. The occasional doodle of a co-worker or a dog. Nothing productive, because while he might be sitting in his drab little office, he's still on his lunch break and feels somewhat justified in dicking around. Someone sent him a text a few minutes ago-- the notification is still on his lock screen. He files that away as a problem for future Jon.

What's much harder to tune out is when his door opens and there's suddenly someone looking over his shoulder. Unfortunately, he's accustomed enough to the intrusion that he doesn't even jump.

“Is that me?”

He turns his chair a bit to look at Chris, who's squinting at one of the doodles on the monitor. A glance back at it himself, and yeah, that one’s Chris.

“How could you tell?”

“Only handsome one on the whole screen.”

Jon snorts a laugh at that. He sets down his drawing tablet and pen next to his half-finished salad. He's got about twenty minutes left before his job savvy brain will force him to actually work on something useful.

The head looking over his shoulder disappears as Chris moves away, leaning against the wall instead. “Why do you hide in here?” He asks, tone casual.

Rolling his eyes, Jon spins his chair the rest of the way to totally face the other man. “I'm not hiding,” he says, “I'm eating lunch.”

“You mean the sad leaves?”

“Yes, Chris, the sad leaves.”

“You could eat your sad leaves with me and Max.”

Another glance at his computer, at the time specifically. Then at his lazy sketches. He bites his lip before closing the program, turning off the monitor, and standing up. His back pops audibly. Chris is grinning at him, obviously proud of his accomplishment. He leads the way out of the office as Jon grabs his food and follows behind.

Occasionally, he doesn't mind the interruption.

\----

Emphasis on occasionally.

He's decidedly less hospitable when he's having a headache, which has become more common as he's gotten older. His door is shut, his lights are off, and he's laying on his shabby couch. He knows he can just go home if he wants to, but he's hoping this is a short one and that he'll be able to get back to it after. All the warning signs had given him a headstart on doing what he can to make it bearable. Unfortunately, there's no warning sign for dumbasses. Not even a knock.

The door opens, the light from the hall floods in, and Jon groans. He shoves a throw pillow over his face as the sound of the door clicking shut again echoes in the otherwise quiet room.

Jon expects to hear talking, or even yelling, and is pleasantly surprised when neither comes. Not surprised enough to uncover his face, though. It's a precautionary measure.

Rather than hearing words, he feels touch. There's a hand on his shoulder. Barely touching, blatantly hesitant. He doesn't react, really, and after a few moments the touch is more confident; enough so to shake him a little. Whining, Jon slides the pillow down enough that his eyes are barely exposed. He blinks the blurriness out of his eyes so he can figure out who he's looking at.

Ryan is looking at him, crouched next to the couch with a worried expression. Like many others, he's somewhat aware of Jon's medical issues. Aware enough to worry, which is something Ryan is very good at, as Jon's discovered over the years. Regardless, he's just glad it's not someone else. Ryan might be an odd guy, but he's too nice to cause Jon real grief when he's already suffering. Ryan lets go of Jon's shoulder and raises his hands so they're in view as he signs.

“Headache? Do you need anything?”

Jon hums an affirmative, then shakes his head just slightly. He's had enough time to prepare for this one, thankfully.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Ryan.” His voice is quiet and tired.

He expects Ryan to leave after that. He's wrong, of course. The other man shifts from a crouch to fully sitting on the floor, leaned back against the couch in a way that can't be comfortable. Jon has to turn his head some to catch Ryan's next words.

“Mind some company?”

“Not at all.”

It goes on, then. They're both quiet and content with it. At one point Jon removes the pillow from his face to tuck it under Ryan's head and hopefully reduce how much of a crick in the neck this position is going to give him. His left hand doesn't leave the general area, though, instead moving to the top of Ryan's head and petting his soft hair. The sensation is nice against his skin, a welcome distraction from the pounding in his head. Both of their eyes are closed. The calm settles around them and within them, no tension left in the air. By nature of his job, closeness isn't something Ryan partakes in with many people, but he's never hesitated with Jon because Jon has never hesitated with him.

Ryan tilts his head back somewhat, leaning into the affection. Jon would chuckle if he didn't feel like shit. He speaks quietly instead. “Just get up here, you big dumb puppy.”

The teasing has no effect on Ryan, who's entirely used to it. He does, however, take the offer. He's stiff as he moves, no doubt from sitting in such an uncomfortable position. It's a pretty tight fit, both of them on the old couch, but they make it work. Jon scoots over and turns, letting Ryan slide in in front of him. Jon has one arm tucked under his head and the other draped over the other man. Immediately, they both relax once more.

Jon doesn't really fall asleep, the headache not allowing it, but he drifts in and out. He feels when Ryan does fall asleep, his breathing even and body lax. Hours pass by as they waste the afternoon, perfectly happy to do so. Nobody else comes barrelling into his office, the fire alarm never goes off, and there aren't any gunshots from anywhere in the building, so he figures they must not be too missed.

When Ryan does wake up it's nearly evening and Jon feels much better, but still craves his own bed at home. He says as much when Ryan asks how he's doing and smiles at the short laugh it earns. Neither of them make any attempt at getting up.

“We should get back to work.”

“Yeah.”

It's another half hour before they untangle and sit up. A full hour before they stop leaning on one another and stand. By the time Jon checks his phone, it's about time for him to be heading home anyway.

“Thank you for today, Ryan. My prince.” He says with a grin. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Anytime. You heading home?”

“Yeah.” He grabs his jacket that's hanging over his chair and starts putting it on. “Hopefully I can sleep this off.”

“I'm probably gonna head out, too. Drive safe, Jon.”

“You too, big guy.”

He's not looking as he hears the door open and shut again, Ryan taking his leave. He rummages around his admittedly messy desk before finding his keys. Pocketing them, he heads out of his office.

Yeah. Some interruptions are definitely a good thing.


End file.
